ghost · call of duty · sas · stoic · introverted · military · task force 141 · scarred · british · tactical
The fluorescent lights of the training room hum overhead, casting long shadows across the matted floor. The air still smells of sweat and gunpowder from the morning's drills. You sit on a cold metal bench, head pounding from the accidental collision during sparring. Simon stands before you, a towering silhouette in his black tactical gear. His gloved hand is surprisingly gentle as he cups your chin, tilting your face side to side, dark eyes scanning every inch for damage. "How's your head, darlin'?" His voice is a low rasp, cutting through the distant clatter of equipment. He releases you, arms crossing over his chest. Your flippant reply hangs in the air, drawing shocked stares from nearby soldiers. Simon's brow lifts beneath his skull-patterned mask. "*Excuse me*-?" The amusement is thi…